‘No, no…’ she murmured, taking a step back just as a car whizzed past.
Two strong hands grasped her waist and swung her high off the ground, dropping her into the passenger seat of the convertible. ‘Sit down before you get knocked down,’ he said, and, crossing to the driver’s side, he slid in beside her. He made no effort to start the car.
He turned to look at her, one hand on the steering wheel, the other arm draped along the back of the soft leather seat.
‘So who is the blond guy?’
Sally frowned, thoroughly flustered and not sure what he was talking about. No hello, no kiss…Not that she wanted one, of course…Just a snapped question.
‘I asked who was the man that kissed you goodbye.’
‘Oh, you mean Charles—my boss.’
‘I might have guessed. A kind, caring boss, I seem to recall you telling me. Now I know why. He wants you for himself.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. He is a thoroughly decent man, and friendly with all his staff.’
‘I bet he does not kiss them all,’ he drawled derisively. ‘Dio, Sally, you can’t be that naïve.’ He shook his dark head. ‘He is a man, and you are a very beautiful woman he sees every day at work. You must know he lusts after you.’
‘You are totally wrong—he is a happily married man with a child.’ For an instant Sally wondered if Zac was jealous…
‘As is your father, and according to you it never stopped him.’
‘That is a horrible thing to say—but coming from you it does not surprise me.’
He wasn’t jealous. He was simply being his usual arrogant self, presuming every man’s motives were as basic as his own.
‘Charles is a happy, totally committed married man, proud of his family—and I know because I have met his wife and daughter on countless occasions. So drop this pointless conversation and drive on. You’re blocking the traffic,’ she snapped, oddly dispirited by his attitude.
Zac was not convinced. He knew his fellow men. Married or single, few if any would be unaware of a woman as exquisite as Sally. Even Raffe, his assistant, happily married for five years, had taken one look at her, his eyes lighting up, and declared her gorgeous.
He started the car and smoothly pulled out into the rush-hour traffic. He glanced sidelong at Sally and saw again the sadness in her expression. He could have kicked himself for being such a callous idiot.
The first time they had met he had been irritated by the way she had virtually ignored him, but now he realised that, thanks to her father’s ill-conceived behaviour and her mother’s illness, she unconsciously dismissed any man who showed an interest in her. If last night had taught him anyth
ing it was that Sally truly was an innocent, and naïve when it came to men—hardly surprising, given she worked for a living and spent most of her free time visiting her mother.
The silence between them stretched and stretched, and even with bustle of the city all around them Sally was beginning to get nervous. ‘Where are we going?’ she finally asked, as the car stopped at some traffic lights.
‘I know a nice restaurant on the south coast overlooking the sea, about an hour’s drive from here.’
‘We are going out?’
Somehow she’d thought he would take her straight back to her apartment, but obviously not. So he could not be in that much of a hurry to get her back into bed.
‘Good,’ Sally murmured, and squashed the little devil voice in her brain that suggested otherwise.
‘Unless, of course, you had something else in mind? I’m easy…’ Zac drawled, giving her a lazy, sensuous smile that made her all too aware of what he was suggesting.
‘No, the seaside sounds great. I used to live by the sea until I moved to London to work. And after mum’s accident the house in Bournemouth was sold.’ She frowned. ‘Actually, when I think about it I have not been to the beach in over a year.’
They ate dinner on the terrace of a restaurant perched on a hilltop, overlooking a small cove where a few fishermen’s cottages surrounded the beach.
Sally chose pâté as a starter, as did Zac, and he ordered lobster with salad for the main course, followed by summer pudding and coffee.
They shared a bottle of wine, and Zac quizzed her about her childhood and her days as a student. She did the same, and discovered his parents had actually died when he was one. Far from being born with a silver spoon in his mouth, as she had thought, she was amazed when he told her he had spent his early years in an orphanage and worked for every single cent he had made. Some of his stories were funny, like the one about his abortive attempt to make his own olive oil, and how he had finally called in an expert. He made her laugh, and for once she allowed herself to relax.
‘More wine?’ Zac asked, holding the bottle over her glass. His dark eyes, still lit with amusement, were holding hers.